Things Fall Apart
by theeShadyLady
Summary: Leslie in her last moments. And what becomes of Jess after tragedy strikes. Will he ever be okay? How will he react when he comes across what seems to be a familiar face? Will she be able to help him? Or is Jess too stuck in the past to be helped? / To everyone who has continued to read this 14 month long project, I am thankful for your support and time! \\
1. When the Water Ran Red

**_A/N- Hey everyone, I'm theeShadyLady bringing to you this fic called "Things Fall Apart." This is my first non-Hunger Games fic, so I hope you like it._** **Leslie POV.**

**_((DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bridge to Terabithia.))_**

Chapter 1: "When the Water Ran Red"

"Jess?" I call hesitantly looking down at the raging water below. I doubt he would have come here without me, _but maybe he got up early today. We haven't been to Terabithia in a few days, so he was probably in a hurry to get here._ I use a branch to pull the rope swing over to my side of the river.

Once I have the rope, I give it a good tug just to make sure it's still strong. And then I take hold of it, jump forward, and swing. The first time I reach the opposite edge I don't let go of the rope, I lean my head back looking up at the sky. I remember the first time Jess and I came here and he was afraid to cross the creek. _He tried not to show it, but I could tell. I can always tell_. The water must be really high because I can feel my hair dragging through it.

"Jess?!" I shout again after I jump off the swing onto the opposite side of the creek. I run through the woods at top speed, calling his name. It's been raining, so the ground is soft and I slip a lot. But that doesn't slow me down. When I reach our fort I realize he's really not here. I also notice that Terabithia is extremely quiet. Not one of the Terabithians are making a sound, or are even in sight.

_They must sense the absence of their king. I need to find him. I miss–I mean–we miss him._

I start running back towards the creek, I feel like I'm running slower than usual. But that might be because I am used to Jess running right beside me (well, behind me).

As soon as I have hold of the rope I thrust myself forward, close my eyes, and hold my head back feeling the water splash my hair. But then I feel too much water. I feel it on my face, my clothes, and my arms. My eyes snap open and the last thing I see is a small section of rope still hanging from the tree. Then there is nothing but water. It's rushing into my mouth and my nose. My eyes are still open but the current is tossing me around too much to see anything but water.

_How could this happen? I checked the rope. No! I forgot! The one time Jess isn't with me is the one time I don't check!_

My head hits something hard, probably a rock. I feel dizzy and I notice the water around me has swirls of red in it. I get thrashed around and I'm scared, because I can't breathe at all and I don't want to die.

I get pulled farther under water. Time seems to slow down and I start seeing things. People say when you're about to die you're entire life flashes before your eyes. But that's not what is happening to me...

I see the last time I saw Jess, with the rain dripping from his hair and his sad smile.

I see Easter when I went to church with Jess and May Belle. _What if May Belle's right and I'm going to Hell? No, God wouldn't do that._ But I don't have time to think because now...

I see the time Jess and I put a note in Janice Avery's desk.

I see day Jess came over to help paint the Gold Room in my house.

I see the time Jess got Prince Terrian for me. _I never needed a present, he was enough. But he didn't know that. And now he never will..._

I see the first time Jess and I came to Terabithia. _Oh, Terabithia, I hope your king doesn't abandon you after I..._

And finally I see the first day I met Jess. And that's all I see, nothing before that. Then I realize the reason why; that was the day I started really living_. What would I have done without you, Jess? I wouldn't have P.T. I wouldn't be friends with May Belle or Janice Avery. There would be no Terabithia. And I would be alone._

I break the water's surface for a moment. "Jess!" I scream but he's not here, he can't hear me. _Why is it that things fall apart when you need them most?_

I suddenly feel tired and like I can't fight any longer; the current is too strong. So I close my eyes and let the water take me, still holding the broken piece of rope. I'm not scared anymore, but I really wish Jess was here.

Just as I feel myself beginning to fade, I hear something. My eyes flutter open. "Jess? Jess! Help me!"

But it's not him, it's P.T. He's barking at me and making whining sounds as he races with me along the creek's edge.

At this point I'm feeling pretty dazed, but I manage to get out "P.T! Find help." Or at least I think I say that, because I can't hear P.T. anymore. I don't hear anything anymore. The last thought that enters my mind is...

_Goodbye, Jess Aarons._

****~theeShadyLady~****


	2. Not Crazy, Just Heartbroken

**_A/N- This is Chapter 2 of "Things Fall Apart," this is my favorite of the two chapters. _****Jess POV.**

**_((DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bridge to Terabithia.))_**

Chapter 2: _"Not Crazy, Just Heartbroken"_

People say you can feel it when someone you love dies. But not me, there was no shift in the air, no sudden thought of Leslie. I didn't feel anything. I was off at an art museum thinking I was having the best day... that is until I came home. But I still didn't feel anything then, I never felt her leave. How could that be? I loved her. I really did. And she never knew.

Or did she?

Her dad told me that she loved me. But what did he know? He didn't know her like I did. She was special. She was crazy, but in the best way. She was my best friend. And she still is, even now. Is that crazy? A twenty four year old man, who still thinks his best friend is a dead twelve year old girl? Of course it is. After all that's why my parents sent me away.

I was doing okay. I spent time with May Belle in Terabithia, even built her a bridge to get there. I went to school with Janice, the only other kid who noticed Leslie's absence. I accepted the looks of pity from the teachers without breaking down in front of them.

But all that ended when I turned sixteen and Terabithia wouldn't let me in. I had walked there with May Belle one day and there was just nothing. May Belle was talking to giants and I couldn't even see them.

That was the day my first nightmare came. It was of me at the edge of the creek, the bridge wasn't there, just a broken rope. And I could hear Leslie calling for me, sounding terrified. I could also hear P.T. barking. But I couldn't ever find either of them.

I had that dream every night for a month and every night I'd wake up screaming Leslie's name. Until finally my mother had had enough and she told my father that I had to go. I think he felt bad for me, but even he agreed that something had to be done.

First they sent me to a boarding school; which sent me back after only three weeks, because of all the complaints about my screaming. Then my parents sent me to a military school; that sent me back because I refused to get out of bed during the day and wouldn't go to sleep at night. So finally my parents got it right and sent me to a hospital for the insane (AKA the Looney Bin). And I was the perfect patient there. I did what they said, went to therapy, and took every pill they sent my way.

That went on for a year and half, which is when the hospital decided that I was fixed. (Which really meant: I was about to turn eighteen and my parents would stop paying for me to go there.) But that was alright because even though I could lie my way through the hours of therapy and the pills made my pain go away, I was still cold and lost inside.

When I got home my parents let me stay with them for a week, until they found me an apartment in town. They claimed it would be good for me, but really they didn't trust me around the rest of their children. May Belle cried, hugging me, saying she missed me and wanted me to stay, but they just ignored her and packed my things back into their car.

The apartment actually was alright, it was good to be alone for once. I never had guests, except for my mother coming to drop off groceries. My father insisted she bring them, because he knew I wasn't going to go and buy them myself. I didn't even have a job, I didn't want one.

For days I would lay on the floor, or the couch, or my bed trying not to think of Leslie. My mother confronted me about this once. Telling me it wasn't right for a grown boy to be still hung up on something that happened so long ago. I couldn't take that, I blew up on her.

If I am recalling correctly I believe my exact words were: "She's dead and I'm not. Right? No! Wrong. I'm dead too, I must be! She was everything to me and I left her. She was my only friend, don't you get that? I loved her! And I didn't even feel it when she left! I couldn't even tell the difference! I was supposed to be her best friend! And I wasn't there! It's my fault she's dead! It's MY fault! Now get out and don't EVER come back!"

And she didn't come back. But my dad did. He came twice. Once to drop off an art kit and even though I understood what he was trying to do, I wanted nothing to do with it. A few times I even considered throwing it away. But I never did and thank God I didn't.

Because after I accidentally let myself fall asleep and consequently woke up screaming Leslie's name, I angrily grabbed the art kit and started drawing. I didn't think about it while I scribbled down image after image, I just kept drawing until my dad walked through the door and found me sprawled out on the floor in a mess of paper and pencils.

"Jess," he said.

"What? What? What!" I replied with the crazed voice of a mad man.

"Jess, your drawings they're so..." I paused finally looking at my work. They were all of Leslie. I could feel myself shaking as I dropped the pencil I had been using.

"P-please, leave. Please." My father nodded as if he didn't think I had lost my mind and then left without any argument.

Three days later I received a call, actually several calls. My phone had been ringing half the day before I finally drug myself up off the floor to answer it.

"Hello!?" I growled. Nobody had bothered to call me since I had moved in and I didn't understand why someone would want to now.

"Jess Aarons?" a stranger's voice replied.

"Yes."

"I am calling on behalf of the Southern Art Board."

"The what?" I had asked shocked at what I was hearing. The stranger explained that my father had made calls to nearly every art gallery in the state trying to get someone to pay attention to him. Finally one of them did and they called the Board to ask them to look me up and see if I was worth their time; which is what she was doing now.

She then set up a time that same day to meet with me and come take a look at some of my work. I agreed and she was there within the hour. After apologizing countless times for my appearance and showing her my growing collection of art. She said she would like to buy them all and put them in a New Artist Gallery that the Board was opening for upcoming artists to gain popularity.

Two months later was the gallery opening which my father dragged me to and when I walked in I saw that I was the spotlight artist, so I was supposed to make a speech. But when I stood in front of the unimaginably large group of people wanting to hear about my art, my inspiration, and my pain; I could hardly handle it. I stumbled through the speech, even crying during parts, but the audience was intent and listened until I got out every word. After which, one guy offered to buy several of the paintings, which caused a bidding war between them. They were fighting, arguing over which of them wanted my Leslie more, and I couldn't take it. I walked as fast as I could to the back door. But I was caught by the woman from the Board who had bought my art pieces, she asked me if I had anymore that I would be willing to sell to the Board.

I did. And I sold them all to her for a sum of money that was more insane than I was. All except for one. The painting I made of Leslie of the last time I saw her; her hair dripping with rain while holding P.T., smiling, and telling me goodbye. And that painting of the last day of our life still hangs above the mantel in my house. The house I bought with a small part of that money. It was much too expensive, but I wouldn't take no for an answer. It's the Burke house or at least it was for less than a year. And that's where I have lived for the last six years (if you can even call it living).

I still can't fall asleep without waking up before the night is over crying out for Leslie. And I still can't go out and be around people, so I don't have any friends. My family doesn't visit me, except May Belle who has taken over the task of delivering my groceries. And this is where I'll stay. Until my sentence here on Earth is up and I can be with Leslie again. And I can finally tell her that I love her. That I always have and always will.

**~theeShadyLady~**


	3. Ready or Not

**_A/N- Hello! I have decided to continue this fic, "Things Fall Apart", instead of ending it with chapter 2 as I had originally planned. (Thank you to _****Abhro****_ for the suggestion to do so.) This is what I have come up with so far, hope you all like it._**_**Jess POV.**_

**_((DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bridge to Terabithia.))_**

Chapter 3: "Ready or Not"

"Jess, come on. You never go anymore, it'll be fun."

"Fun? No. I told you, May Belle, I don't want to go. So just leave me alone."

She grabs my arm and stares at me until I'm willing to listen, "I am not going to let you sit here in this house waiting to die."

"I'm not waiting to die! I'm just..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go get dressed, I bought you a suit." Up until this point I hadn't even noticed the long box sitting on the table behind her. Quickly snatching the box, I glare at her, but she knows she has won.

_When did she become such an adult?_ I wonder as I trudge to the bathroom and slam the door closed. I pause to eye the man in mirror with his shaggy hair and tired expression. _And when did I get so old?_ Most people would laugh at my definition of old; only twenty four, but still much older than I want to be.

Flinging open the closest drawer, I make a rash decision. I pick up the scissors and start hacking away at my hair until I'm satisfied with its length. When I'm through I have to admit, it doesn't look half bad. Not surprising, I do my best work when I'm not thinking.

"Jess! Hurry up!" May Belle pounds on the door. So I quickly sweep the pieces of my chopped off hair towards the garbage with my foot, but don't bother to pick it up.

"Give me a second!" I shout back as I yank on the so called 'suit' she picked out for me: black jeans, a white T-shirt, a plaid black and purple button up shirt, and a black vest. It's not something I would call formal; but I like it, it's comfortable.

I fling open the door to see May Belle's impatient face. But by the time she has looked me over she's smiling and admiring her handy work, "You look amazing." Then she decides I'm not quite perfect yet and has to adjust the collar of my shirt a few times until she deems it appropriate, "Now let's get going."

Glancing back several times making sure that I'm still following, she leads me to her car. "I can drive," I say jokingly grabbing at her keys.

"Yeah, right. You think I'm going to let you behind the wheel of a car," her answer is harsher than my comment calls for, "especially when I'm forcing you to go somewhere?"

I shrug instead of replying, then plop myself down in the passenger seat.

* * *

"I don't know why you don't want to go. A lot of your work is going to be there," she points out as she drives.

"That's most of the reason." I pause to see if she'll say anything or miraculously understand, but she doesn't, so I continue. "I don't like seeing people examine my pictures. I feel like they're judging me, like they're judging her. And they make comments. I hate all the comments they make."

"Then why do you make them? Why do you sell them?" I'm blindsided by her questioning, nobody has ever asked me why I do what I do. I try to keep myself together as I answer.

"Because when I paint her or when I draw her it helps me remember her. It assures me that I haven't forgotten her. And I sell them because it hurts too much to remember her." My emotions start escaping through my words and I have to keep my voice from trembling, "Its hurts so much... so much that just seeing her and knowing I'll never have her again is... its unbearable. And sometimes I think... if I sell them... that'll get rid of my pain."

"Does it?"

"No." I see her glance at me, but she doesn't say anything during the rest of the ride.

* * *

May Belle parks the car behind the art gallery, but hesitates before getting out, "Ready?"

"Nope," I answer shoving the car door open.

We enter through the back door labeled 'ARTISTS' and have to wade through a crowd of people yattering about sculpting tips and arguing about what type of paint is best. I roll my eyes at them, secretly wishing I could talk about meaningless things like that.

I lead May Belle down the hall to the actual gallery because she has never come in from this way, but then she takes over. She steers me around the gallery; weaving this way and that, pulling me left and right with purposeful force, and blocking certain areas as we pass by them. It's nice of her the effort she is talking, she was her yesterday mapping out the location of every one of my pieces so that she could help me avoid them... well, originally she had planned to show me them, but now that she knows I don't want to see them the reason for knowing their placement has changed. But I don't thank her, I don't even put in the effort to fake a smile or to look interested, I just shuffle along next to her like a dog on a leash.

"I thought this was supposed to be fun?" I mutter under my breath.

"You know what, Jess? I give up! I was just trying to help, but clearly you don't want me to! I'll take you back home and you can sit and mope in the dark for the rest of your life! I don't care anymore!"

I can see that I'm hurting her, but I want someone else to hurt like I do and she just happens to be the person nearest to me when I decide this. "Good! I told you this was a stupid idea anyway!" I spit back.

"Get away from me!" she shoves me backwards, "Get out! Go to the car!"

"Fine," I spin on my heel and storm out. But I'm not careful on choosing my path and I end up walking right by one of my paintings. It's the painting of Leslie's eyes that I made after a particularly bad bout of nightmares. They're deep blue gaze sends me tumbling back.

My heart pounds in my ears as I scramble away as quickly as I can. Images of her flash in my mind and I feel my hand making sharp movements as it tries to transfer these images with an imaginary pencil. I make turn after turn not even sure where I am in relationship to the exit.

Then BAM my mind screams stop so loud that my hand and my feet suddenly freeze without knowing why. In front of me is an image that's nothing extraordinary compared to the other pieces featured in the gallery. But for some reason it grabs my attention and squeezes until it's the only thing in the room that I'm aware of.

It's painted to look as if it were a portrait looking up from the bottom of an ocean. There is coral painted on the edges to replicate the feeling that it's growing around you and there are little air bubbles climbing towards the top of the painting. For some reason this painting pulls at something inside of me, but even as I stare at it for what seems like a lifetime, I'm not sure what it is that I like so much.

_I have to have it. I will not leave here without it._

I debate on pulling it off the wall to ensure that no one else will buy it, but then I remember that some of the pieces have sensors behind them to prevent theft. So reluctantly I drag myself away from the painting to search for a gallery attendant.

"Hey. Hey! If I—hey—if I wanted to buy one of these paintings, how would I go about doing it?"

"Well," he looks down at me, clearly annoyed, "depends on which one you want."

"The underwater one... It's blue... It's over there." I point back towards the direction I came from. "Do I need to show you?"

"No. That painting just arrived this morning, it's on loan just for tonight's gallery showing. So we can't sell it."

"What?! No!" I gasp, as if he just said 'I'm going to remove your leg'.

"Are you okay, kid?" _Kid? I haven't been called kid in years. I guess it takes a stranger to see you as you really are._

I blink rapidly trying to let his words register. He gives me a nervous glance and then avoids eye contact with me hoping I'll walk away. But I don't, I stare expectantly waiting for him to decide to help me.

"Hey," he finally gives up and points to a woman in the corner of the room, "that's the artist of that painting you want, you can talk to her about buying it. I can't recall her name though... Bailey something or Riley maybe... I'm not sure."

"Thanks," I mutter and try to walk away, but someone else catches my arm. "Hey," smiles a red-lipped woman with too much eye makeup, "You're Jess Aarons, right?" Just from the ways she asks it I can tell she expects me to be impressed by her knowledge.

"Yeah, I am," I answer sadly as if it were a bad thing and then yank my wrist from her grasp.

"What's your problem?" I ignore her and continue walking towards the woman that the attendant indicated.

"Hey, uhm, hey?" I'm not sure how to start the conversation, so I tap her shoulder. And she whips around angrily.

"What?!" she growls at me.

"Um, I was just wondering... that painting, your painting, is it for sale?"

"Painting?" She wrinkles her nose.

"The underwater painting, didn't you make it?"

"What are you talking about? I don't paint, I'm a mod—"

"Yeah, I really don't care." I'm being rude and I know it, but I have better things to do than worry about her feelings.

"Excuse me?!" she gasps as I turn away feeling pissed off about being lied to. _He said that was her! He probably didn't even know how the artist of my painting was; he just wanted to get rid of me. I'm never gonna get it. I should just steal it..._

I hear a female voice behind me as I leave. _I don't care. Why doesn't she get it?_

I feel a hand on my shoulder, but I don't turn around. I have to fight the urge to scream at this girl. "Why are you looking for me?" I hear a soft voice whisper.

I still don't turn around, now not believing that I might actually get my painting after all.

"You were asking about my painting?"

"I, uh, I need to buy it."

"You don't _need _to buy it and it's not for sale."

"Yes, actually I do. I'll give you anything you want for it."

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't know."

"Wow. First you refuse to even turn around to talk to me, which okay, maybe you're shy, so whatever. But now you won't even tell me why you want my painting so badly."

I turn around, because I need that painting and then I realize...or I guess I understand... what makes me want it so badly. The blood drains from my face as I match this black and blue haired woman to the girl I knew so many years ago. Even though I know it can't be true, her brightly colored pants and her layered shirts pull the name right from my mouth, "Leslie?"

"Who's Leslie?" I see her cock her head to the side and frown a little as the room darkens and I collapse to the floor with the words of a young girl's made up story about snorkeling replaying itself in my mind.

**~theeShadyLady~**


	4. Hope

**_A/N- Sorry for the gap between posts, I sort of got distracted by other fics I'm planning on posting soon (so keep an eye out for those), but here's Chapter 4, please like it. _****Jess POV.**

**_((DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bridge to Terabithia.))_**

Chapter 4: "Hope"

I'm shaken conscious by my sister's grip accompanied by her worried voice repeating my name.

"Hey. Hey," she whispers seeing my eyes blinking open a few times. I feel her hands brushing the hair back from my forehead, "You okay?"

I blink my eyes open again but everything's blurry and it makes me dizzy, so I allow my eyes to close again. I'm still too confused to explain, so I settle for one word, but even that comes out in a stutter, "L-Les-lie."

"It's not her," May Belle is still petting my hair, "Jess, it's not her. You know it's not. Okay? I'm sorry. It's not her. It's not"

I force my vision directly on her as I push myself up into sitting position. _She's right. This girl is not Leslie. Leslie is dead. Leslie's dead and has been for nearly twelve years._ I feel like crying and I think May Belle can see that because she pulls me into a hug. "I'm sorry, Jess," she says, even though she has no reason to be.

When she releases me, I notice that everyone in the room is staring at us. Then I notice the-girl-that's-not-Leslie, she has backed away and is pressed against the nearest wall. She nods at me in acknowledgement and embarrassment rushes through me. I look away.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you did this on purpose so I'd take you home."

"I did," I say cracking a smile and she laughs.

"Come on," she pulls me up and we walk to the door together. Her arm is wrapped around me protectively until we get to the car. I realize, as she does this, how my sister and I have switched roles over the years. I used to be her protector. I used to care for her and comfort her when she cried. She used to look up to me. Not anymore.

She grew up. I didn't. I still act like a child and am selfish. Now she acts as if it's her responsibility to watch out for me. She protects me and worries over me like she's older and I allow it to happen. I don't want the responsibility of taking care of anyone. I'm not good at it, as my past clearly shows. I like the way we are now. And it seems like she does, too.

"Hold on," she says diving into the center compartment of her car. She comes back with a little flash light which she shines into my eyes and makes me follow without moving my head.

"So your nursing classes must be going well," I say knowing she's checking me for signs of a concussion.

She nods. "What's your name?"

"Jess Aarons."

"Do you know who I am?"

"May Belle."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four," I breathe the number out as if it hurts to say.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" She holds up three fingers.

"Eight... Minus five." I smile, she sighs.

"Okay, I think your fine. Ready to go?"

I nod at her sliding myself into the passenger seat. As she jogs around the car to her side, there is a knock on my window. It's the-girl-that's-not-Leslie. I wait for May Belle to start the car up before I roll down my window a few inches.

"Yes?"

She hands a business card in through the window opening and says "Call me and maybe we'll be able to work out an arrangement for my painting." I'd nearly forgotten about the painting that had caused all this. I watch the-girl-that's-not-Leslie walk away. She has a slight skip in her step, suggesting she's not quite ready to be grown up yet and I like that.

"Jess," May Belle asks after long stretch of silence, "how long are you going to keep smiling like that. I'm not used to it and it's freaking me out."

She laughs when she asks it, but I'm confused. I'm not smiling. I take a quick glance in the mirror. I am smiling. I focus my face into a frown and find my cheeks are sore from having been in such a foreign position. But even still, the smile creeps back onto my face.

"So, what's her name? Does the card say?"

Turning the little business card over in my hand for the first time I see in neatly printed letters:

_HOPE DALTON_

_Creator of Things_

And below that is a phone number penned on in loopy handwriting.

I read the contents of the card aloud to my sister. Her only response is _that's a cute name._

* * *

The next morning I bite down my nerves and pick up the phone. The phone rings three times before someone picks up.

"Is, uh, Hope there?"

"This is she."

"Oh. Hi. This is Jess. Jess Aarons... That probably doesn't help... I'm calling you about the painting that you made that I saw at last night's gallery showing. I fainted."_ That was a lot more words than was necessary._

"Hi. You want to talk over lunch. Great. Logan Point at noon, see you there."

After looking up where and what Logan Point was in the phone book. I had to call May Belle to see if she would drive me the half hour trip to the restaurant. She agreed and dropped me off next to the sign that read "Logan Point: We Make Sandwiches." Despite the poorly chosen slogan, I shrugged and made my way to the door; I like sandwiches.

When I walk in I see Hope is already sitting at a booth in the corner. She waves at me like we're not complete strangers and I smile back.

Before I'm even comfortable in my seat she asks, "So, who's Leslie?"

I can feel my face lose all its color, "She was my friend. She died."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago." I lie to her; trying my best to seem like a sane, normal human being.

"So tell me why you want it. I don't know is not an answer that I am willing to accept."

"I want it because," I have rehearsed this speech all morning, knowing she would ask, "it reminds me of her."

"Of Leslie? It's just a picture of water," she says, interrupting my perfectly timed speech.

"Yes, her. It was my fault she died. We had this place called Terabithia, we used to spend all of our time there, when we weren't at school." My sentences get out of order as they rush out of the gates that have held them back for years. "She liked to make up stories. One of the first stories I heard her tell was a homework assignment. She made up some perfectly believable story about snorkeling with her parents and read it aloud to the class."

"That doesn't really explain—"

"I'm getting there," I interrupt her right back. "In the story she talked about looking up from under the water and how she could see little air bubbles floating up away from her towards the surface. And your painting reminds me of that. I didn't realize that at first. Until I saw you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you look like her. A lot. Like you could be her. If I hadn't let her die."

"Jess," Hope sighs, looking into my eyes, "I don't believe for a second that it was your fault. And neither should you."

"You don't even know what happened."

"But I can tell that you loved—love her and wouldn't have let her die if you could have helped it."

"You don't know what you're talking about." My temper rises a bit, _what makes her think she can say that?_ "We're getting off topic," I remind myself and her, "are you going to sell your painting to me or not?"

"No."

"No?!" I hiss back.

"I'm not going to let you buy it, because I'm going to give it to you."

This catches me off guard. "You're joking."

"Nope, it's yours, if—"

"If what?" I cut her off and she calls me out on it.

"Don't interrupt me. And it's yours, _if_ you agree to go out with me tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiles at me and it's such a sweet, genuine smile that I can't help but smile back. "But why do you want to go out with me? Hope, can't you see that I'm not worth your time? I'm broken. I know I am. I've been that way for a long time."

"I know. And I don't care. I like you, Jess Aarons. You're very... interesting to me."

**~theeShadyLady~**


	5. Take A Hike

**_A/N-Yay, new chapter! **_Only one, maybe two, more chapters left after this one. _**Not much to say, hope you all like. _****Jess POV.**

**_((DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bridge to Terabithia.))_**

Chapter 5: "Take A Hike"

"Jess, I've already given you a ride three times this week! This has to stop." May Belle's not angry, despite the fight she's trying to start.

"It's not my fault, I don't have a car!"

"Yes, it is. You could get a job." She knows my answer to this.

"I don't want a job."

"You're impossible," she sighs, staring up at me. It's times like this that I can tell that she's my little sister, not my older sister. I know she's right, I've been having her drive me around a lot, but she's the one who's been offering for years to drive me wherever I want, any time I want. And before I met Hope I had never taken her up on her offer.

"I just need you to drive me to meet Hope one more time."

"No, I'm done." She says grinning at me and before I can argue she hands me a small box. "Open it."

I flip off the top and look inside. It's a set of keys. Keys to her car. "No..." I look up at her, she's joking. She has to be.

"Happy birthday!"

"My birthday isn't for two months, May Belle."

"Yeah, but this way I want have to buy you a present." She nudges my arm, "So do you like it?"

I throw myself at her, hugging her tightly. "You're the best."

"I know."

"But, wait," I release her from my grasp, "what about you? If I have your car, how are you going to go anywhere?"

"Matthew bought me a new one... It's red. It's fast. It's too much. I like it." Matthew is her latest boyfriend in her long string of short relationships. She's told me all about how thoughtful, kind, and smart he is. All of her boyfriends have been this way. Matthew, however, is one of the few that have been blessed with the gift of money. But he, like all the others, will inevitably be left by my sister for reasons only known to her. May Belle is not a bad person, don't get me wrong, but I think she just wants too much.

"He's going to want it back when you leave him."

"Who says I'm going to leave him?" She gives me a serious look, like she has no clue what I'm talking about. I just smile back at her and say goodbye.

* * *

"May Belle's letting _you_ drive _her_ car?" Hope asks leaning through the window to talk to me.

"My car," I flash a smile at her, making her smile back. _I love her smile. _"So what's the plan for today?" I ask as she hops into the seat next to me.

"Hiking," she nods as she answers matter-of-factly. That's her way of saying I don't have a choice in the matter.

"I don't hike."

"Now, you do." I laugh at her confidence in me and start driving as she instructs me on where to go.

She has me park on the side of the road, despite my protests, and we get out. I make her wait in the car so that I can walk over and open the door for her. She thinks chivalry is dead; I like to show her it's not.

"How gallant of you," she smiles jokingly, taking my hand as she steps out. That's when I notice that she has dressed accordingly for this trip: running sneakers, black shorts over green shorts (because layers are her most-have, as she has pointed out to me several times before), and a stripped t-shirt. Whereas I, not knowing the nature of this trip, am in jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and a sweatshirt. Thankfully, however, I am wearing sneakers. I quickly zip off my sweatshirt and run after Hope, who has already wondered off and is making her way down the hill.

After about ten minutes of walking, trees are starting to become more frequent and I am feeling more and more uncomfortable. Eventually we have walked far enough that we are in a full on forest of trees. It feels too much like Terabithia, well too much like not being in Terabithia. It brings me back to the first time that I couldn't enter. I choke back a sob, not wanting Hope to realize there really is something wrong with me, and continue walking.

In the distance my ears pick up the faint sound of running water, or at least what they believe is water. My feet respond by stopping. Hope stops, too. "You coming, Jess?"

"Yeah... just had to take a break for a second."

She walks back the few steps towards me and takes my hand. "Come on," she's smiling, but she has an air of seriousness. She's up to something.

We walk a bit farther and my eyes inform my ears that they were correct. I can see a bridge up ahead and a few steps later I see a creek. It's a different creek, than the one my mind tries to convince me that it is. But I still grow colder and colder with each step Hope and I take towards it. _This is why you're an indoor person now_, my brain reminds me. I ignore it, focusing on Hope.

"Start talking." I say aloud. It sounds aggressive the way I say it, but I can't help it.

"Okay," she doesn't even question my behavior, "did you decide where to hang my painting, yet?"

"I'm thinking above the table in the kitchen."

"That's a good spot for it. Then it'll be the first thing people see when they come in." She's just agreeing, because that's where she suggested it should go when she dropped the painting off and I gave her the 'grand' tour of my slightly-less-messy-than-usual house. I hadn't really wanted to let her in, I had thought it would feel like I was betraying Leslie, but she insisted. And I didn't feel guilty at all as I walked her around and apologized for the clutter. The only part that had been uncomfortable was when she stopped to stare at my painting on my mantle; my painting of Leslie. She had said something under her breath, but refused to repeat it when I told her I didn't hear her.

"You told me yesterday that she drowned," Hope says quietly.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask sadly. She's trying to help, I know it, but I don't want help. I just want to go on pretending that I'm okay. And I just want her to like me, like I like her, and not have her want to fix me.

She pushes her fingers through my hair, getting it out of my face so that she can look me in the eyes.

"I don't want you to be afraid."

"You think I'm afraid of water?!" I can't believe how mistakenly she has read me.

"I think you're afraid of remembering."

"This isn't going to help," I halfheartedly pull away, but she keeps her hand on mine. She walks with me to the bridge, her grip tightening as she steps onto it. "I hate you," I whisper trying not to cry as my mind fills with cries it has never heard. Leslie's as she drowned. I'm paralyzed as I imagine a blonde girl with choppy hair, thrashing in the water. But that sound, that image, gets drowned out by the sound of laughing. It's a foreign sound that takes me a moment to recognize. It's Leslie's laugh, but as I keep listening I also hear my own. I look towards the edge of the creek and I can see kids running; me and Leslie. And I can hear PT barking amongst our laughter and I feel happy and sad all at the same time.

I'm crying, now. There's a voice; a voice like Leslie's, but not quite, repeating: "I'm sorry. You're okay. Jess, I'm sorry."

My memories fade out and the ache in my chest that I've grown so used to in the past years doesn't seem to hurt so badly. It's still very much there, but it's just not quite as bad as it was only ten minutes ago.

"Jess, I'm so sorry," Hope apologizes recognizing that I am more alert to her presence. "This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have made you do this."

"I'm okay," I respond quietly, looking directly in her eyes.

"So you don't hate me?" I shake my head and that's when she does something unexpected. She leans forward and kissed me. I'm so stunned that I don't pull away, but I don't kiss her back either. Then without waiting to see what I'll say, she takes off back the way we came from, running at top speed. I chase after, but can't get closer than I couple strides behind her.

_She's mad. I've upset her. You've ruined everything, Jess!_ I scold myself as I run. But then I hear Hope laugh and I realize I'm wrong.

"You're never going to catch me, Jess Aarons." I somehow persuade my feet to kick it up a notch and I finally get myself close enough to reach her. But I don't make any move to stop her. I just keep running. I can feel the wind ripping though my hair and pushing back the skin on my face, and I love it. I laugh throwing my head back, enjoying the feeling of running like I used to. I missed this feeling of freedom and happiness, and I don't want it to stop.

Hope reaches the car a second before I do and by then we are both puffing and bent over trying to catch our breath. When we both recover, I am back to myself. I am broken. Leslie is dead. Hope is not her.

I frown and push Hope's hand away when she tries to take mine as I drive her home. She understands. I feel like she is already used to my mood swings and we haven't even known each other for three weeks. _She shouldn't have to be put through this. She deserves more than what I can give her._

**~theeShadyLady~**


	6. I Do

**A/N-****_ Thanks for all the reviews everyone! Sorry it has been so long since I last updated; it took a while to figure out how to get this story headed in the direction I wanted it to go. Also, originally I had said Chapter 7 would be the last chapter, however, this chapter got longer than expected and I decided to divide it into two smaller chapters. So now Chapter 8 will be the last chapter._**

**_((DISCLAIMER: I do not own _****Bridge to Terabithia****_.))_**

**CHAPTER 6****: "I Do"**

I hand May Belle back her keys, but she gives them right back almost immediately.

"It was a gift, Jess. I'm not taking it back."

I sigh, squeezing in next to her on the couch, "So what was wrong with this one?"

She takes a minute before answering, "There's nothing wrong with Matt."

"There never is," I say under my breath, half-hoping she didn't hear me, half-hoping she did.

She straightens up and gives me a disapproving look. "Is there something you'd like to say to me, Jess?!"

_You shouldn't have said that. You should not have said that…_ "It's just that…well…" I stutter a bit, not sure of how to word my reply. "You date all these guys and you talk about how perfect each of them are… but before two months has even past you leave them. And I don't get what it is that you want from them. …And I'm not sure you do either."

"I know why," she mumbles.

"Are you sure, because it seems like you have no idea what you want."

She looks away and for a moment I think she's going to start yelling, but when she turns back to me there are tears in her eyes. "I want… I just want what you had… with Leslie. I want someone who makes me feel free and smart and good. And I want to make someone else feel like that. And I was starting to think that it was impossible, that maybe… maybe there will never be a love like yours and Leslie's, but then you found Hope… and I'm back to believing that I can have that, too… I just haven't found it yet."

This is too much for me to handle and the words burst from my mouth angrier than I had intended them to, "There is nothing between me and Hope."

"You don't have to lie, Jess. I see the way you two are when you're together. And I think—"

"There is nothing between us! We are done. I don't want to talk about it. Okay? We are talking about you."

"You still want to talk?" she seems taken aback, "…but it's about Leslie…" she mumbles the last part.

"It's okay, I can talk about her." I'm not sure if I'm telling the truth, but I don't want May Belle to be so afraid of hurting me that she can't talk to me.

She nods, but is silent for awhile. I start wondering if she is expecting me to start the conversation. Which I really hope is not the case, because that would be too hard for me.

May Belle lets out a long sigh, "What you had with her, I envy that. I've always wanted a love like that."

"She never knew I loved her," I correct May Belle.

"Yes, she did. Did you really not know that? She loved you, Jess. She really did and she knew you loved her, even I could see that and I was just a little girl back then. For me, you two were like a real life fairy tale. Even though it was only for a short time, I knew you were better than any story ever could be. And I've always just wanted that for myself. But nothing has compared to the love that you two had."

A blank look is the only reply I have for her; I don't want to start crying in front of her. I told her I wanted to hear this and I'm going to hear it, no matter how much it hurts.

"And I see that beginning again with you and Hope. It's amazing, truly. Not many people can find that once, let alone twice; trust me, I would know."

I've had enough of this. "Stop," I whisper, looking up and away from my sister. _I will not cry._ _I will not cry_. "I'll be back, okay?" I say standing up when I feel like I have some control of myself.

She is trying not to smile. I have fooled her, she thinks I'm okay. "You going to see Hope?"

"Yeah," my voice catches and instantly May Belle's face changes into a worried expression.

"Jess?" I ignore her. "Jess!? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just have to go do something. I'm okay." I hurry out the door and start walking down May Belle's driveway ignoring my car. Hope doesn't live that far away and it'll give me time to get my thoughts straight.

It's a fifteen minute walk and all the way there my mind is spinning and by the time I knock on Hope's door I don't actually remember much of my trip here, let alone know what I'm going to say. There a few short thoughts that I remember have been playing on repeat in my mind since I left May Belle's: _ I don't want this. This is not a fairy tale. Fairy tales have happy endings and those aren't real. You have learned that. I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't._ The door opens, interrupting my train of thought.

"Hey! How are you, Jess? It's been awhile. I was starting to think you were mad at me." She's talking in rapid-fire sentences and doesn't give me time to answer or even think before she's on to the next topic. "How's May Belle? It's _such_ a nice day, isn't it? Do you want to go for a walk? Or we could—"

"No. I just came here to talk."

"Okay, what do you wanna talk about?" she asks, her voice has a playful tone to it, but in her eyes I can tell she knows what is coming.

"We can't be friends." I say, knowing I sound like a kid. "I can't do this. I don't want to hang out with you anymore."

"Jess, we are not just friends. I like you."

"No. Stop. You don't."

"You're not me, you can't tell me how I feel." She wants me to stop; she wants me to shut up and forget what I'm about to say; but I can't.

"I don't like you, so you shouldn't like me. It's a waste of time for either of us to pretend that anything is ever going to happen between us."

"Jess," she is trying so hard not to cry that I can feel my heart tearing its already broken self apart. I turn around and start walking back to May Belle's, regretting the decision of leaving my car there. I'm not even sure why I thought it was good idea, but there's no point in thinking about that know.

Before I am even out of the driveway, I hear the overenthusiastic beeping of my phone's ringtones, so I pull it out of my pocket. Staring back at me is a picture of Hope grinning and peeking over a tall stack of books; I put the phone back in my pocket. The ringing stops for about a minute, just long enough for her to leave a message, and then it starts again.

Without thinking I take off in a full-out sprint, pushing myself to run fast enough that I can't hear anything but the wind rushing past me. I do my best to think of running and running only, but all I can think of is how guilty and hurt I feel. I run all the way to May Belle's apartment, then run up the stairs, fling open the door, and throw myself down on the couch.

"How did it go?" she asks as if it isn't obvious.

"Horrible. I hate myself. I hate her. I hate you. I hate everything." I mumble through the pillow that I have buried my face in.

"I know," she says sliding down onto the floor so that she is next to me. She brushes my hair with her fingers as I continue announcing my list of hatred.

"I hate Leslie," I stop when the words leave my mouth. _How could I say that? You're stupid, Jess! I hate you!_ I yell in my mind as punishment for the awful thing I've just said. That's when I notice that May Belle has recoiled and when I lift my head up I see that she is staring at me.

"I do," I whisper, realizing that maybe it's true. "Look what she's done to me. She ruined me, May Belle. She left without even telling me. That's not fair! You can't just do that to someone; you can't just break them and expect them to be okay. I'm not okay! I've never been _okay_. I loved her! God, I loved her. Why? Why did she have to leave me? I hate her! I hate her! I hate this."

" Jess," she doesn't know what to say.

"I'm fine," I lie, pushing myself into a seated position.

"You know what, Jess? I love you, but I'm going to be honest with you. You _are_ fine." I'm insulted and hurt by her frankness and am about to argue when she silences me with a look. "I was her friend, too, and it hurts me to think about her sometimes, so I can't even imagine what it is like for you. But I know that, yes, it hurts like Hell that she's gone and I know that it's hard to imagine moving on. But moving on doesn't mean forgetting; it doesn't mean that you don't love her, I know you do; but I know that she wouldn't want you suffering like this. Do you even realize how much it would hurt her to see you like this?"

"Yeah," I murmur. We are both crying at this point. "I'm sorry," I say to both her and Leslie as I let my body lay back down. May Belle rests her head on mine and we just stay like that until both of our tears have ceased.

**_~theeShadyLady~_**


	7. The Water Ran Red Again

**A/N-****_ Hello, everyone and welcome back to "Things Fall Apart"! I'd just like to take a second to thank you all for reading this far and I hope you've enjoyed this story up to this point. :)_**

**_((DISCLAIMER: I do not own _****Bridge to Terabithia****_.))_**

**CHAPTER 7****: "The Water Ran Red Again"**

May Belle offers to let me stay on the couch for the night, but I tell her that I kind of want to be alone. She drives me home in my car and I tell her she can use it until she buys a new one, since Matthew took back the one he gave her.

Sitting alone in my house I suddenly feel tired; like I haven't slept in years. I stretch out on the couch because I don't even have the energy to walk to my bedroom.

When I wake up it's still dark and my ears are filled with the sound of screaming. It takes me a few panicked seconds to realize that I'm the one who's screaming. I close my mouth and try to calm myself, even my hands are shaking. Out of pure desperation, I crawl onto the floor and over to the corner of the room to find a stack of paper and some pencils.

I stay there for hours, so long that the sun has risen and is already getting low in the sky again. The shaking in my hand easily sketches out image after image, remembering its old habit. I don't even think about transitioning when I run out of paper and see three empty canvases. My hands automatically fumble around for brushes and paint, somehow managing not to spill anything on the carpet. Two paintings later, my hands and my mind are tired. I drop the brush, absentmindedly dipping my fingers in the paint and drawing out swirls of color on the final canvas.

I fall asleep on the floor in the mess of color that I have created and wake up quietly, still with paint covering my arms. I head to the bathroom, not even bothering to see what I've made, despite the fact that I have only a faint memory of what I did only hours ago.

I glance in the mirror before I get in the shower. My eyes are red and puffy, I have smears of paint on my face, and there are colored patches in my hair from where I twisted my fingers into it. I glare at myself wanting to hate what I see, but I can't. I can't stop thinking how much I look like a painting and how in a way it makes me feel closer to Leslie; like we are both just blotches of color and can only be seen in the form of an image, belonging in a frame not in the regular world amongst regular people; we are not living, we are just immortalized memories.

And for a few minutes I fool myself into thinking that it is true, until I step away from the mirror, and I am a man again. _A man that's still a child, that now wishes he was a painting. What a twisted tragedy I am._

I tear off my layers of clothing and slide down on to the floor of the shower letting warm water rain down on me. I cry silently, without tears, watching as the paint wears off me and mixes with the water creating swirls of red that run away from me and slip down the drain.

* * *

It's 9 AM when I hear pounding on my door. "It's open, May Belle!" I yell, knowing it's her. She told me she'd be by to check on me. She must not have heard me because she's still knocking.

I crawl off the couch, which is where I have been laying since I got sick of sitting in cold water, and fling open the door. I'm caught off guard as Hope pushes past me to get inside. She whirls around before I can tell her to get out, "What's wrong with you?!"

I ignore the question and instead close the door and walk to my bedroom to find a shirt; until now that had been too much effort. When I walk back into the living room she is standing patiently waiting for me to answer, but I won't. She knows the answer already.

"Don't give me some crap about how you can't handle a relationship. I want a little more explanation than that you are still in love with Leslie. I understand that; I lost someone, too! I don't get why you never seem to remember that. I loved him, but I know I need to grow up and move on. I need to live my life and you do, too!" She's crying.

"You really don't get it, do you? I know all that! I know it is wrong that I am still stuck in the past, but I love her! I can't help it; I can't stop! And you are just going to have to deal with that!" I'm crying, too.

"Stop saying th—" she goes silent midsentence when she happens to glance over to the corner of the room where all my drawings are.

She starts walking in that direction and I try to grab her arm. "You don't want to see that," I whisper, willing her to stop. She just shrugs me off.

Slowly she settles herself onto the floor and starts picking up the images one by one. I drop down next to her, sitting cross-legged watching her face as she examines each of my pieces. They are all of Leslie, all except the last one.

The last one is a face, half Leslie's, half Hope's. She holds this one for a long time before setting it back down. She is crying, but I get the feeling it's for a different reason than before. "I love you, Jess Aarons."

She looks over at me and before I know it I'm saying it back, "I love you, Hope Dalton."

She leans over, smiling through her tears, and kisses me.

"I love you so much," she says, her forehead resting on mine.

My heart is beating wildly and I feel free and good and strong. "You want to go for a drive?"

She laughs through the tears and hands me her keys, "Where to?"

"You'll see," I say grabbing her hand and walk her to her car.

I don't head straight to where I want to go, that wouldn't take long enough. Instead, I drive a roundabout way trying to make sure I really want to do this. We drive quite a few of the back roads and eventually it's like she can't stand the motionless of the ride anymore. She unbuckles, stands up, and reaches towards the sky moving her hands in the wind. In that moment I do see Leslie, but I also see Hope. And it's okay.

She drops back down in her seat, a broad smile settled on her face. I smile back. I feel genuinely happy. "I love you," I announce to her and then repeat it louder for the world to hear. She is laughing. We are both broken, but in this moment we are able to feel just a bit more whole.

Everything starts looking familiar as the car brings the two of us closer to the place I used to spend so much of my childhood. I haven't been here in forever, but I want to show her this; I want her to know how much she means to me. We are nearly there. No turning back now. And I don't want to.

I glance over at Hope, she has a weird look on her face and it shakes my confidence. "Is something wrong?"

"No," her face instantly transforms into a smile, making me forget the previous look she bore.

"Good, I think you are going to like this."

When I look back at the road I see a flash of silver shooting out from a hidden driveway. I feel the impact before I have time to react. I hear Hope scream as I slam on the breaks, but it's too late. I feel the car being thrown into the air as we flip and roll sideways off the road. The car jolts when it hits the water. I don't hear screaming anymore.

The car is filling up with water fast, but it's hard to orient myself since we're upside down. I yank on my seatbelt, but it's locked in place. Hope is unmoving in her seat, her arms dangling over her head. I feel the car hit the bottom of the river and settle into place. That's when panic sets in. My heart is racing. I'm trapped. I try again to free myself with no luck. I shake Hope as best as I can while still strapped in my seat. She doesn't react.

I try to wiggle out of my seatbelt in an inevitable attempt to get free. I stop, knowing it's no use. This is the end and I have no choice but to wait until I can't hold my breath any longer. I try to just let the water take me, but my mind won't let me be done so easily; it wants me to suffer.

I try to think of May Belle. I try to think of being free. I try to think of anything but dying. I end up thinking of nothing; I just feel an overwhelming numbness in my brain. My life does not flash before my eyes. I have a momentarily realization that I did not feel it when Hope died. Numbness returns. I am cold. I am alone. I am dying.

My mind finally starts to slow as air slips from my mouth and I watch red water pull away from random places on my body and from Hope's forehead. _Leslie._ My mind whispers, making me wonder if Leslie was this calm. _But she was alone. I left her. I won't do that again._ I force my arm to move and reach for Hope's motionless hand, intertwining my fingers with hers as my eyes close.

**_~theeShadyLady~_**


	8. El Fin

**A/N-****_ Final Chapter. I am super sorry for taking so long to post this, but I wanted it to be done correctly. (Just as a warning, there are several _****TFIOS****_ references in this chapter; I have an imperial addiction to John Green.)_**

**_((DISCLAIMER: I do not own _****Bridge to Terabithia****_.))_**

**CHAPTER 8****: "El Fin"**

I am overwhelmed by the brightness of it all. The light hurts my eyes. I see nothing but light. I feel like I am staring into the core of the Sun. I close my eyes to escape it.

It helps. I can think. I can hear. Someone is yelling, I didn't notice this at first. But now that I have my eyes closed I'm aware of it. The yelling gradually splits into words that echo in my mind and are hard to register. I can tell though that whatever the words are, they are being repeated.

I count the sounds.

Nine words.

"Eyem sari et whuznt sopoz'd tu hehpan lyk thist. Eyem sari. I'm sorry." The words finally start making sense as I focus on them, "I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I'm sorry."

I know this voice saying these words, but I cannot name the owner. I blink my eyes open, despite their apprehension of being exposed to the light again. This time there is a blurry image hovering above me. A face.

_Leslie_, my mind announces. _Hope_, it corrects itself. _Leslie is dead, this is Hope._

"Jess, hey. Hey." I recognize the feel of her hand on my face and her fingers stroking my hair.

"What happened?"

She lets out a small laugh even though I can clearly see she is crying.

"I have to tell you something."

"Okay?" I question hesitantly, sitting up and looking into her eyes. I'm feeling better by the second and though I am confused about what's happening, I am becoming increasingly afraid of what she has to say.

"We died, Jess."

"No," I correct her, quite sure she is wrong. But I'm not sure how to explain this to her; explaining that someone is alive is actually more difficult than you'd think.

"Jess. There was a crash. We drowned." I stare at her, disbelieving and wide-eyed. "Jess, I have to tell you something else. Please don't be mad." She puts her hand on my face. "I'm sorry. I love you, Jess Aarons."

"I lov—" I stop before I can say it back. My eyes telling my mouth to shut up as I watch Hope's face. It's changing. Well, not so much changing, more along the lines of getting younger.

I feel betrayed when her transformation is complete. Tears well up in my eyes and accusation fills my mouth.

"I'm sorry."

"How could you do this to me?" I beg for an explanation. "I loved you."

"No, Jess, you love me, present tense. That's why I did it. I begged for it, Jess."

"Leslie—"

"I'm going to explain to you what happened. Please just listen and hopefully it will make sense when I'm done. Okay?"

"Okay."

She lets out a breath and begins. "When I died, I knew that it would ruin you; I knew it was too much. You needed me. I wanted to come back as soon as I got here, but everyone says that at first. I was told it would get better, for both of us. I watched you suffer on Earth the way I suffered here and I couldn't take it.

"I asked God, if I could go back to you. But He explained that it would hurt you even more if I just came back suddenly. He said if things didn't get better in a few years He would figure out a way to send me back. I asked Him every year to let me go back. Finally, He agreed with me that it was best. But I couldn't come back as me because that isn't fair to do to anyone.

"And so Hope Dalton was born, well, created. There were rules I had to follow, of course. I could not admit to being or knowing Leslie Burke. I couldn't tell you that I had only been back on Earth for about two days when I met you. I couldn't be too much like _Leslie_ (I wasn't very good at this one). I had to help you move on and grow up. I couldn't let you fall on love with me and I couldn't be in love with you. I failed, Jess. I let this happen. It's my fault. I'm sorry."

My mind is spinning and my head hurts. Lesliehopelesliehope. Leslie. I want to scream, but I am suddenly hit by the realization that none of this matters because I'm dead. _I'm dead._ _Is this Heaven, then?_

"Where am I?" I ask not knowing if I want the answer.

"Jess Aarons, don't you have anything else to say to me."

"No, well, yes. It's just I'm glad it's you, but I'm not a kid anymore. I can't—"

"Are you sure about that?" She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a little foldable mirror, then holds it up in front of me.

I am me; the real me; not a man; not a tragedy. I am twelve year old Jess Aarons.

I feel like I'm going to cry. I'm confused, I'm worn out, I'm terrified, and I'm happy, though I don't know how it's possible that I'm feeling all these things. But I am.

"Leslie," I whisper. I don't want to upset her, so I attempt to change the subject. But saying her name distracts me when I realize how good it feels not to hurt when I say it.

I look around there is nothing but light everywhere, or at least that's what it seems like until you really focus. As I look around things start moving, figures that I realize are people. There are outlines of buildings, too. It is beautiful, like the most perfect of paintings.

She takes my hand and smiles, looking into my eyes.

"Leslie," I try again, "where are we?"

She breathes a laugh before saying, "Some call it Heaven. Some call it Utopia. It doesn't have a name really, but it sure is something, isn't it?"

"Something… Perhaps that's good enough though, as long as it's Something."

She smiles again, leans her head on my shoulder, and whispers, "I've missed you."

**_~theeShadyLady~_**

* * *

Dear Readers,

Sorry I killed him.

-theeShadyLady


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